


Bad Dream.

by Vadam_T



Series: A Hipster and an Anarchist - Act 1 [6]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Crying, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Nightmares, Other characters mentioned., Sexuality, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vadam_T/pseuds/Vadam_T
Summary: Wrench is a complicated person. Whilst he sleeps one night, he relives a horrible moment from his past.





	Bad Dream.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been very sick recently. That's my pitiful excuse for the lack of activity over the last week or so.  
> This one was written after a bad dream I suffered myself. (There are a couple of element of reality to the dream sequence.)  
> \---  
> Written whilst I was sick at 2 in the morning.  
> Might be terrible. Expect Typos and errors.

**Bad Dream**

 

Wrench throws his power-tool down and leans back against the workbench, admiring the work he had just done. The asshole who nearly ploughed into him was going to wake up in a couple of days to a nasty surprise.  
  
Now all he had to do was find out where they lived and get it transfered there. Ghouly would have a couple of Ops willing to help him out with that part.  
  
He glances at the watch on his wrist, a pair of exclamation marks appearing on his mask for a flash as he realises how late it is.    
    
"Damn." he mutters. The words made louder by the masks voice modulator. It was pushing mid-night now, and that confirmation alone was enough to make the sleep tugging at his body known.  
  
He stands upright and stretches, some of the bones in his legs, and back popping and crackling. Rolling his neck, the mask now displays a pair of tired lines. He needed to sleep.  
  
Slowly, he wonders over to the couch. Picking up the bottle of beer sitting atop the now "perfected" car he'd been working on. As he sits down, he pushes his mask up so that's it sitting atop his head.  
  
He downs the last of the beer in the bottle and sits back, taking in one hell of a deep breath. Usually sleep for Wrench consisted of finding somewhere mildly comfortable and dropping.  
  
Rarely did he ever get the luxury of a couch like this, or even better a bed. Allot of the time he was so drunk, high, or tired to care where he slept. Marcus' bed was nice, if the Hipster ever stayed at his place in Oakland there he'd use it more often.  
  
One time, he fell asleep ontop of the table at the Hackerspace. Being the literal definition of a log when he slept, Sitara, Horatio and Josh had to make do with working elsewhere, or in Horatio's case...around him.  
  
He awoke some time later to find that his friends had drawn all sorts of doodles with sharpie markers all over him. The most hilarious one was the Apology note Josh had made on behalf of them scribbled onto his inner left fore-arm in dark green, naturally.  
  
"Sorry, they wouldn't shut up until I did something. Story of my life. -J"  
  
That still made him laugh to this day, one of his favorite Sauchak qoutes. He'd considered doing a tattoo of it in the exact same place. If only he could convince Josh to re-write it on his arm, and use it as a reference. That would be easier said than done.  
  
No matter, that was for another time. Right now, he was to forget his thoughts, and drift off to sleep. Reaching up, he pulls the mask back down. Not only was it his window into the world, and his security from it, it was a surprisingly good sleep-aid.  
  
As he flops down onto his back, he fishes into the pocket of his spiked vest and finds his phone. He opens an his HackNET app and uses it to trigger the power-control box up-stairs.  
  
The Lights go out and the whole garage is plunged into darkness, all of the screens and machinery powering down. Nothing but the sound of the wind outside, and the occasional passing vehicle.  
  
He falls asleep quite soon after that.  
  
\---  
_He finds himself sitting between his parents, looking across at his school Principal, he was always a man he hated, loathed actually. Always found out what was going on, no matter how hard he hid from him._  
  
_"You're son was found in the boys locker room with one of his friends. They were engaged in some...intimate activities." Principal Morris says plainly, a lilt of apprehension in his voice._  
  
_"Oh my god" his Mothers says, a hand coming up to her mouth._  
  
_"Who was he with?" his Father sits forwards. "I need a gender."_  
  
_"He was in the boys...locker room, Mr Hawick."_  
  
_The look his Father gave him at that point always haunted him. It was a mixture of many things, disgust, horror, frustration. Like all respect and hope for him diminished in that moment._  
  
_He'd hoped it would have ended there, he wished it had. But the shouting match that ensued in the car as they went home between his parents was...rough._  
  
_"I can't believe this...he's one of them." he remembers his mother muttering between the fits or rage from his Father._  
  
_"First, Ryan...now him. I worry for Jenny!" his Father snaps back._  
  
_When they got home, that's when things got rough. His Father was relentless with the beatings this time. He'd seen him angry before, furious even. But this was unfiltered wrath._  
  
_The Insults thrown at him. "Un-natural", "Disgusting", "Faggot", "Sick". They never left him._  
  
_Next thing he knows, his Father takes out his lighter. He'd burned him before, as a punishment for destroying his bike. But that was on the arm._  
  
_This time he went for his face. "You should be ashamed to look at yourself. Let his be a reminder of what should happen to people like you."_  
  
_He remembers thrashing on the ground, trying to break free from him, followed by the searing pain as the flame licked at the side of his face. Burning just above his left eye._  
  
_It was only in contact with his skin for 20 second or so, but that was enough to scar him for the rest of his life._  
  
_That night he was locked in his room. Terrified, and in immense pain, he managed to force his window open and climb down the side of the house._  
  
_He ran off into the darkness. And never looked back._  
  
\---  
  
With a loud gasp, Wrench jolts upright and looks about. He's trembling and had broken out in a cold sweat all over. Upon realizing he was back within the safety of his garage, back in reality, he lays back.  
  
He shuts his eyes tight under his mask, a strangled sob escaping him. He hated crying, it was one of the rarer things he did. Usually when he got emotional he would let it out through destroying the joint with one of his Sledgehammers, or finding a Blume Server Farm and blowing it to shreds.  
  
But right now it was too late, and he was too exhausted to do anything like that. So he was stuck with his emotions and feelings.  
  
He lays there, feeling the gentle sensation of the tears rolling down the side of his face as they spilled from his eyes.  
  
After a moment or so, he feels the phone in his pocket vibrate. He ignores it at first, but it persists. He takes it out, not even looking at the screen. And with a loud modulated cry, throws it with force across the room.  
  
It hits the far wall and breaks into two halves. The screen flickers to black immediately. Desperate for a way out of his current emotional hole, he lets his realization of what he's done overtake him.  
  
Wrench leaps up off the couch and rushes across the room, almost winding himself as he near crashes into the workbench as he moves.  
  
He drops to his knees and picks up the phones halves, inspecting them. It would need a replacement. Great.  
  
"Fuck!" he yells out, throwing them to the side.  
  
He hauls himself back onto his feet, using the stool at his workbench for support. He slips onto it, and pulls the mask from his face.  
  
It's about now he notices his reflection the reflective paneling to his left, it was close enough for him to notice it. What he sees makes his stomach crawl.  
  
His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks still wet from the tears. But that wasn't what he was focused on. It was the burn his Father had given him.  
  
Slowly, his hand comes up to it. Even after all these years, it still hurt somewhat to lay a finger on it, the nerve endings on the skin had been damaged, and it made the area within and around the burn extremely tender and sensitive.  
  
Just looking at it, makes the tears return to his eyes. Shaking his head he slumps forwards and brings his head to rest in his arms.  
  
\---  
  
Not much time later, a sound occurs from the other-end of the room. A gentle knocking on the shutter doors on the far end. At first he puts it down to wind rattling them, then it gets a little firmer.  
  
It's followed by a voice. A voice he recognized. Josh.  
  
"Wrench? Are you awake in there? I need in."  
  
He doesn't respond verbally, he didn't have the energy or patience for any conversation at the moment. His mood was still atrocious, and he wanted to be alone.  
  
Eventually the knocking and Josh's calling stops. A few blissful moments of silence pass, which is followed by the sound of the lights coming on, all the screens and server stacks around him coming to life.  
  
The Doors on the far end open up, the loud rattling noise causing him to jolt up-right, his eyes blinking a few times. He takes in deep breath and brings his hands up to his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
Suddenly there are footsteps, someone walking with purpose towards him. His gaze snaps up as Marcus appears from the side-lines. He smiles warmly and makes a light waving motion with his hand. "Hey, Man...Sleep late, it's almost mid-day."  
  
Josh is now at the workstation on the far end of the room, he sits down on the spinny chair and interfaces his laptop with the screens on the desk.  
  
Marcus tilts his head. "Wrench?"    
  
He looks at him suddenly, snapping back into the moment. "What?"  
  
"Are you okay?" the Hipster glances down at his phone for a moment. "I tried phoning you earlier on...but you didn't answer."  
  
That's who was calling. Figures. Marcus always called him when they spent the night apart.  
  
"Yeah- Sorry...I might have had a flare of temper and thrown it across the room."  
  
Marcus shakes his head, sighing. "Not another Nudle Phone, Wrench...that's the fourth one this year."  
  
"Hey, I was mad...and it happened to be the first thing I saw...so I..." he makes a throwing gesture with his hands. Marcus sighs again.  
  
"I'll see if Ghouly has anymore free." he tuts and and pockets his own device. "Anyway, why were you up so late?"  
  
"I was actually sleeping...just um-." He lets out a deflating sigh. "Bad dream."  
  
"You still getting those?" Marcus leans forwards on the workbench, next to him.  
  
"Yeah..." Wrench nods. "That one was...pretty bad."    
  
"Why? What happened in it?"  
  
Wrench gestures to his burn scar. It's about now he realises he isn't wearing his mask. His eyes widen slightly and he looks about. Marcus points to it, and he snatches it up, quickly putting it on.  
  
"Glad you didn't throw that across the room." Marcus comments.  
  
"Yeah, that would have been...unfortunate."  
  
"You wanna talk about it?"    
  
"About what?"  
  
"Your dream."  
  
Wrench lowers his head for a moment. "Right now, M...all I want is to get my ass over to Arthurs...and get some coffee."  
  
Marcus looks at him for a moment, he was suddenly regretting pointing the mask out, he couldn't see if he was being truthful or not. It was all about the eyes with Wrench, the mask had covered those, replacing them with a pair of illuminated crosses.  
  
He nods. "Alright Man...I'm gonna help Josh with some things. You need anything you just-"  
  
"-No phone, M"  
  
"Shit...well you know where I am anyway."  
  
He smiles. It was that warm smile that made Wrench want to curl up in his arms and stay there in his embrace forever. He bites back his urges to do just that and nods.  
  
"Sure." he pats Marcus on the shoulder, walking towards the open garage door. It was surprisingly sunny out, for the time of year. "I won't be long."    
  
With that he pulls his hood up over his head and leaves. Marcus watches him as he stops to scare off a stray cat that was sitting nearby, before wondering off around the corner and out of view.  
  
"Marcus?" Josh asks from the workstation. The Hipster glances over at him. "I've got it."  
  
"Right. Let's see this thing then." he walks over to where he's sitting.  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This one was written with iA Writer, apologies for any errors or formatting issues that were present.  
> It was over 2000 words and I decided I wanted to put it in this series.


End file.
